


Thoroughly Played

by orphan_account



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Adult Content, Guitar sex, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom likes to play thoroughly. Both his Gibson and his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoroughly Played

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [How Tom Plays his Gibson and Other Things](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/7959) by Undrockroll. 



> My entry for the Remix challenge on THF, Summer 2010 under ninaelisabeth. Huge thanks to Darcy for letting me remix her amazing fic, and to Jess (littlemrstom) for the beta.

Tom knew that Bill was watching him like a hawk. Though Bill wasn’t really staring at him; he was staring at the guitar in Tom’s lap. Tom kept fingering the strings, slowly and lovingly. He adored his Gibson and he treated her like the lady she was – and Bill couldn’t stand that.

“Stop staring,” Tom mumbled, breaking the silence. He continued to pluck the strings, not looking at Bill. He didn’t have to look to know that Bill was still staring.

“I’m not,” Bill mumbled back.

Tom looked up briefly, catching Bill’s stare for a second. Bill didn’t look away, just continued to stare, dumbfounded, at Tom. 

Tom shook his head. He reached for a cloth and rubbed a small spot on the body of the guitar. He could still feel Bill’s burning gaze.

Tom had always handled her like she was a lover, not an instrument. She truly was more than an instrument, though. And he enjoyed watching Bill squirm.

Bill huffed behind him and Tom could hear him get up from the bed and walk into the bathroom. The sound of the shower running came soon after.

Bill had always been the jealous type, even before they started, err, experimenting beyond their brotherly relationship. Bill would take every opportunity to verbally slaughter any girl that laid eyes on the older twin, so they never really came close enough in the first place. Bill would never let anyone come between them.

For Bill, the Gibson was, indeed, competition; for Tom, it was a chance to see his two most beloveds interact like never before. Tom shook his head at his own thoughts and went back to plucking the guitar.

Like he could convince Bill to do _that._

* * *

Tom kept his lips on Bill’s collarbone, using his hands to support Bill’s back as Bill continued to ride him. Bill’s breathy moans came in pulses against Tom’s ear and his thighs tightened around Tom’s waist.

"Nhhg," Bill moaned, his head rolling back. Tom took this as his cue, and reached one hand in between them. Bill's member was leaking at the tip, trapped between their writhing bodies. They were both so close to climax they could taste it.

Bill cried out as Tom's warm hand touched him; Tom always handled him, oh, so well. It didn't take much before Bill moaned loudly and hummed, spilling himself over Tom's hand and chest.

Bill’s body was spent as a well tuned guitar string. Tom hummed along as he continued to push into Bill’s body, feeling Bill’s muscles spasm beneath his touch. Bill was so tight and delicious around him. It had really been too long. 

Tom followed soon after, finally reaching the release he had been striving for. Bill was hanging onto Tom's shoulders, his arms limp and his breathing heavy. Tom panted along, his chest rising rapidly.

Tom moved them down on the bed and pulled out carefully, smiling down at his brother's scrunched up face.

"Oh, good lord."

Tom chuckled. “Was it that bad?”

“No; fantastic, it was fantastic,” Bill replied, lifting himself up onto his elbows to look at Tom before flopping down again. “We haven’t done anything like that in weeks.”

Bill smiled contently, stretching out on the bed.

Tom nodded and stretched, too. He sat up from the bed, scanning the room for his boxers before locating them by the suitcase. “It’s been a while, yes,” he mumbled.

He hadn’t been this relaxed in months, and when Tom was relaxed, there was only one way to stay relaxed. He stood up from the bed, grabbing some tissues and drying off the sticky come on his stomach.

After pulling his boxer shorts on, Tom walked over to the other end of the room, where his Gibson was leaning against the wall. He could almost hear Bill’s mouth falling open.

“Tom,” Bill whined loudly. “You can't be serious. You're not gonna play _now?_ ”

Tom didn’t listen to Bill’s complaints. He was so relaxed and content and he wanted to feel the strings beneath his fingers. He also wanted to test Bill’s boundaries again and no moment was more perfect than this.

Tom took the guitar from its stand and brought it over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Blocking out the whining noises coming from the naked man behind him, Tom smoothed a hand across the shiny surface and plucked one of the strings. Of course, there was little to no sound from the electric guitar, so Tom could perfectly hear Bill huffing behind him. He could feel Bill’s eyes on him.

“You really like her better than me.”

Now it was Tom’s turn to huff. He knew that Bill had some obnoxious complex with Tom’s so-called relationship with the Gibson, but not that it was plain jealousy. This could be interesting.

“That’s really sick,” Tom murmured. He fingered the frets and kept a delicate finger on one of the strings. “Even for you.”

“No, it’s not. You think she’s prettier than me,” Bill said matter-of-factly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Tom didn’t catch on.

“Why would you say that?” Tom flattened his hand against the strings and turned to look at Bill. Bill sat with the duvet pooling in his lap, his arms crossed. His facial expression looked like a cross between grossed out and utterly fascinated.

“Because you just fucked me,” Bill said flatly, as if that answered the question alone. Tom lifted an eyebrow in response, so Bill elaborated. “You almost didn’t pull out of my ass before you walked over to touch _her_ , so therefore, you like her better than me.”

“Huh,” Tom said dumbly. He turned back to the guitar, stroking the sides tenderly as he hummed. “Well, maybe I do then.”

Bill gaped at him in response. “She always does what I tell her to do, without complaining,” Tom said, affectionately stroking the guitar and petting the head.

“I never complain,” Bill murmured. Tom could feel the bed dip, and that Bill was crawling towards him. “And I can do what you tell me to do, too.”

Tom snorted. Bill had always been like this, pushing buttons and playing his little game. He knew how to tick people off, he knew from the minute he met them – but with Tom, it was different. Tom could play this game.

“You’re jealous of her,” Tom smirked. “That’s sick.”

Bill stopped coming towards Tom. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Tom kept his eyes on the guitar, plucking the strings and smoothing his hands over the surface. Bill huffed loudly and stood up from the bed, pulling on some boxers and wiping off some come from his stomach.

Bill stepped up to Tom, standing beside him with a hand on his naked hip. Tom didn’t look up, just kept his eyes on the guitar, his head bobbing to a silent beat.

“Let me touch her then.” Tom shook his head, flattening a hand over the strings yet again. “Why not?”

Tom looked up at Bill, their eyes locked and Tom quickly broke the intense stare. “I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you, so why should I let anyone touch her?”

“That’s not the same,” Bill pressed. “Come on, I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“For me it is,” Tom murmured. “And if you’re jealous of her, you might damage her.”

“That’s so messed up.”

“Well,” Tom mused, looking up from the guitar again. “I might let _her_ touch _you_.”

Bill bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. Tom lifted an eyebrow, watching how Bill scratched his arm and how his eyes burned into the guitar. Bill didn’t respond, so Tom took that as an end to the discussion and went back to playing.

* * *

Tom howled with laughter. The club was packed with people, and Tom was sitting by a table with Georg and Bill; Gustav had wandered off to find more to drink.

“And then she looked at me like I had grown another head,” Georg commented, finishing up the story he had been telling. “But it wasn’t my fault that she didn’t like grapefruit!”

Tom slapped his thighs as he laughed. He hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time, and when out on tour, it wasn’t easy to get any time off at all. So he had embraced the opportunity to go out.

Tom looked over at Bill who was sitting beside him. Their thighs were pressed up against the others.

Bill was pouting already, and they had only been there for about an hour. Bill had been silent the whole night; he’d even hesitated when they started talking about going out for a drink. Tom knew Bill wasn’t too keen on drinking anymore, but he used to like to join them, especially sober. He always ended up with something embarrassing to use for future blackmailing.

Tom smirked to himself, throwing himself at his brother and slurring into his ear. Bill let out a sigh and pushed Tom away. “Billy,” Tom frowned. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m going back to the hotel,” Bill said with clenched teeth. He stood up from the booth and smoothed down his shirt. Both Tom and Georg booed at him. Tom looked at his brother and Bill lifted an eyebrow. “You coming?”

With stumbling steps, Tom managed to find his way out of the club, Bill right behind him. Bill frowned even harder as Tom slumped against him, leaning on his shoulders for support.

“Get off me,” Bill said and pushed against Tom slightly. Tom stumbled towards the van, definitely not walking straight. “Jesus, get it together, Tom.”

“But you can help.” Tom stopped and turned around, looking at Bill with a small smile.

“No, you can help yourself,” Bill murmured. Tom frowned as Bill walked past him towards the van. Saki was standing outside of the black car, and waved slightly to make them walk faster.

“But you can help me to the van,” Tom slurred. He was leaning on Bill again now, having caught up with him. Tom leaned in, whispering into Bill’s ear. “And I’ll fuck you, hard and good.”

Bill kicked Tom in the shin, hissing that he should shut up. “I can fuck you in the car, or in bed, or on the floor.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Bill said lowly, pushing himself away from Tom and stomping towards the car. Tom nodded to himself and started to walk towards the club again, ignoring Bill’s shouts behind him. When he turned to flip Bill the bird, he saw that Saki had already escorted Bill into the car, and was pulling out of the parking lot.

“Well, well,” he murmured, nodding to the bouncer. He was in desperate need of a drink.

* * *

Tom stumbled into the hotel room, trying desperately to keep his balance. The room was completely black and he could hear the faint snores coming from his brother from the bed.

“Ugh,” Tom mused. He needed a shower, badly. He walked into the bathroom and stripped down to his birthday suit, and stepped into the shower. The water quickly heated up, and Tom let out a sigh.

He really didn’t know how to handle Bill anymore, or if tonight had meant anything at all to Bill. Bill was a complex person; even Tom found him too complex sometimes.

Bill was jealous of his guitar; his _relationship_ with his Gibson. Tom snorted a laugh. Bill had always been weird, yes, but this was borderline crazy. Tom found himself far from surprised.

Tom finished off the shower, which sobered him up surprisingly a lot. He hadn’t been too drunk, having only had a beer after Bill left. After Tom had re-entered the club, it all seemed a little duller; boring even, and he kept wondering what Bill was up to. So he had sobered up throughout the night, watching Georg and Gustav making the biggest fools out of themselves.

After drying himself off and finding some clean underwear, Tom flopped down on the bed beside Bill. He stroked Bill’s face and grinned as his brother’s nose scrunched up. “You’re a special nut,” Tom chuckled.

He yawned loudly and scratched his cheek. He knew he should pack before going to bed; Tom had never liked to pack his stuff in the morning. He would be tired, and he liked to spend as much time as possible in the plush hotel beds before being rushed to the bus, so he would rather do it before he crashed.

Standing up from the bed again, Tom started collecting his stuff on the edge of the bed. He would go fetch the bag in his own room later. After folding his things and checking the bathroom for any of his own belongings, Tom walked over to his own hotel room to fetch his bag and whatever he had left in there.

With his clothes and belongings packed, except what he would be using the day after, Tom looked over at his guitar. He wanted to play. With a content sigh, Tom walked over to the TV stand, where he had left his precious Gibson before they went out. He needed to clean it before packing it up, anyway.

Tom took a hold of the neck and walked over to the foot of the bed, sitting down. As Tom placed the guitar in his lap and looked down at it, he gaped. The whole front was covered in half dried, half sticky come. Bill’s come.

“Bill, oh, Bill,” Tom chuckled as he ran his fingers over the mess on the guitar. Bill had obviously had a lot of fun. Bill had raised the bar. He had touched her without permission.

Tom sat by the bed, admiring the jizz on his precious baby. He snorted.

“This is so sick.”

Bill mewled and rolled over in sleep, now facing Tom. There was dried drool on his cheek, and his hair was matted down across his forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

Bill let out a snore in response.

Tom smirked. He knew exactly what to do. He packed up the guitar, leaving the mess there, and sneaked out of the room, closing the door as silently as possible behind him. Bill knew how to push Tom’s buttons, but Tom knew exactly how to push Bill’s buttons.

* * *

The concert was amazing, as always. Tom was sure that there was nothing else like this, to be able to stand on stage in front of thousands of people and do what you love.

Tom had noticed that Bill hadn’t been close to him the whole show. But Tom had kept his cool, playing his Gibson and flirting with the audience. He’d kept his hands delicately on the neck, moving his fingers over the frets in tune with the song. He was in sync with both the drums and the base, Bill’s voice on top like the perfect topping. The cherry on the ice cream.

Tom looked up as he felt Bill’s eyes on him. They met for a brief second, Bill offering a small smile, but Tom just lowered his head again, trying to hide the smirk tugging on his lips.

Tom could feel the confusion radiate from Bill. It was impossible for him not to. Tom glanced over to the other side of the stage, Bill was swaying his way over to the bassist; his voice seemed normal, but Tom could hear the twinge of panic and confusion there, too.

He had noticed the mess on Tom’s guitar. Bill had noticed _his_ mess on Tom’s guitar.

Tom smirked.

* * *

The buss jerked violently and Tom reacted on auto-pilot, his hand flying to the wall to steady himself. He was sitting in his bunk, cleaning his guitar. There was still a little mess on the neck, but that was it.

Bill had given him a weird look when he brought the Gibson on with him to the bus; even Georg had asked about it. Tom had simply mumbled something about seeing a scratch and wanting to check it out himself.

Tom hadn’t talked to Bill at all that day, and he was sure that Bill would crack sooner or later. He was keeping his money on sooner.

“I was wondering when you’d come.” He didn’t bother to look up as Bill shuffled over to him.

“Why?” Bill’s voice was strained, Tom noticed. He looked up at Bill, his hand still rubbing the guitar.

“We haven’t talked all day.” Tom shrugged, looking down at the guitar again, putting the cloth away. He kept stroking the shiny surface, making sure there weren’t any new scratches.

“All your things were gone when I woke up.” Bill murmured, scratching his arm. Tom smiled slightly.

“I finished packing last night.” Bill nodded, not meeting Tom’s stare. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I went back to my own room. I know what you mean when you say you need your beauty sleep.”

“Oh.” Tom put the guitar against his pillow, his hand flat against the strings. “So, um, cleaning your guitar?”

“Once a day,” Tom murmured, glancing at the Gibson before looking at Bill again. “You know that.”

“You didn’t clean it earlier?”

“I thought it looked pretty good before the concert.” Tom grinned. Bill grinned back, but Tom could see right through it. He looked constipated. “You look nuts.”

“I’m fine,” Bill said, making a face.

“Your eyes are all crazy.”

“Ugh!” Bill snapped, spinning around and walking towards the lounge. Tom shook his head, looking down at his precious guitar.

“At least you’re only noisy when I want you to be.”

* * *

Tom was shaking with anticipation.

It had been days since they had last talked properly. Bill was being silent around Tom, ignoring him, but of course Tom knew why. Bill was embarrassed; he didn’t know how to act around Tom after what he did. 

Bill was squirming. Oh, he was squirming. Tom knew that Bill would crumble soon, he would give in; it was clear as day. Tom just needed to push his last button and wait.

Tom acted normal. Tom always acted normal when Bill was like this; it made Bill shake and want to rip his hair out. He couldn’t take the normalcy. Bill wanted some form of reaction from Tom, but Tom wouldn’t give it to him.

Tom was beyond amused.

Bill was squirming, that was for sure, and Tom was enjoying every second of it. Bill had been avoiding Tom everywhere, even on stage. Bill was timid on stage now, singing and leaving it at that.

Tom rubbed his palms across the fabric of his pants as he stood up from the bed. They had just finished a concert and were back at the hotel for a quick shower and a change. Everyone was ready to wind-down with a couple of drinks in a bar. Even Bill had seemed to perk up when Georg mentioned it. 

Tom walked over to the other side of the room, where his beautiful Gibson was leaning against the wall. He wanted to push Bill’s last button, and he wanted so desperately to see how Bill reacted.

Stroking a clean finger over the shiny surface of the guitar, Tom smiled. He would give Bill the confrontation he wanted.

* * *

The night had gone by exactly like Tom had hoped it would. He had been sitting as close to Bill as possible, and of course, no one asked questions. The twins always sat on top of each other.

Bill on the other hand had been squirming the whole time, unable to sit still. Tom had kept his cool, behaving normal and acting like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

The ride back to the hotel was dead silent, except for Georg’s drunken murmuring against the window. As soon as they pulled up to the hotel, Bill was out of the car, sprinting away. 

Tom watched as Bill stumbled into the elevators, pressing the buttons desperately. He kept his distance, not bothering to run after him. He wanted Bill to get a head start, anyway. 

As Tom reached the elevators, he was shaking. He was hard; horny and desperate to confront his brother about what Bill had done almost a week ago. And then, hopefully, make up.

Tom took the elevator up to their floor, playing with the spare keycard in his pocket. Bill would probably have noticed the Gibson by now, no matter how many shots he had downed.

Tom walked towards Bill's door, taking a deep breath before pushing the card in and opening the door. Bill turned sharply towards Tom, his hand stilled over the guitar.

"Tom," Bill stuttered, fumbling for footing. "I..."

Tom stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him with a sigh. "I told you not to touch her."  
Bill nodded. "I couldn't help it. I was jealous."

"You were jealous of _her_?" Tom couldn't contain the small chuckle that escaped as he stepped up to his brother, taking Bill's hands in his.

"I was jealous of the way you treat her," Bill said, picking at Tom's fingers. "The way you stroke her, clean her, pet her and handle her; how you play her."

"So you jacked off on her?" Tom said incredulously. He hadn't wrapped his head around that fact quite yet. "You smeared yourself all over her?"

"I..."

"You fucked my guitar, Bill," Tom cut him off dumbly. Bill grinned at him.

“Maybe I did.”

Tom smirked, pulling Bill so close their breathing was mixing. “You shouldn’t have done it. It’s really sick.”

“You think?”

Tom hummed, leaning in and licking a stripe up Bill’s neck. Bill gasped, his hands flying to Tom’s shoulder to steady himself. Tom leaned in, whispering hotly against Bill’s ear, “Actually, I think it was hot.”

Bill pulled away at that, looking at Tom like he had grown another head. Tom lifted an eyebrow, his mouth tugging at the ends.

“You’re sick,” Bill said, still grinning softly. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Bill.”

Bill made a noise at the back of his throat, pulling back slightly. Tom let go, and watched as Bill bit his lip, taking another step backwards and leaning against the wall.

Tom looked at the Gibson resting on the bed. He leaned down, taking a hold of the neck and smoothing is palm over the black surface of the body. “She’s so beautiful,” he murmured, and Bill visibly shuddered.

Bill cleared his throat, pushing himself away from the wall. “You’re weird.”

Tom smiled, lifting the guitar completely off the bed, only holding her by the neck. Bill shuddered again, wrapping his arms around himself.

Tom placed his palm flat on the body of the Gibson, his fingers tickling the surface. “You want me to handle you like I handle her, don’t you?” Tom tested. Bill nodded, biting his lip and keeping his eyes glued to the guitar. "You want me to play you."

Tom turned around, leaning the guitar against the wall as carefully as he possibly could. Bill made a face, but stepped up to Tom when he beckoned the younger twin closer.

"I've missed you," Tom mused, closing the distance between them. "I've missed your lips on mine; the feel of your skin beneath my fingers; the sounds you make when I touch you."

"That's stupid," Bill said, amused, wrapping his arms around Tom's neck. Tom pressed against Bill, rubbing his groin against Bill and gasping silently at the sensation. "You've missed being up my ass, that's the only thing you've missed."

Tom grinned, slipping his hands beneath Bill’s shirt. “That might be true.”

Bill laughed at that, letting Tom get rid of his shirt before connecting their lips again. Tom smiled against Bill, his hand unbuckling Bill’s belt and slipping into those tight pants. Tom swallowed Bill’s moans as he cupped his younger brother through the fabric of his underwear.

“Nnng,” Bill huffed.

Tom removed Bill’s pants, shimming out of his own as well. Bill took a hold of the edges of Tom’s shirt, lifting the heavy material over his head and throwing it onto the pile of clothes.

Tom closed distance between them again, pulling Bill flush against his chest and smashing their lips together. Bill’s hands roamed over Tom’s shoulders, clinging to him. 

“I want to see you with her.”

Bill pulled away, looking at Tom with wide eyes. “Never.”

“Show me,” Tom whispered. He let his hands travel down Bill’s spine, ticking his soft skin there. Bill moaned softly in response.

“No,” Bill gasped. Tom’s hands were travelling down further, squeezing Bill’s ass.

“Touch her,” Tom coaxed on.

“I’ve already touched her enough,” Bill replied hotly. Tom smirked, leaning in and capturing Bill’s lips in a lip lock. 

“But I wasn’t there to watch,” Tom said against Bill’s lips. “And I’m sure she doesn’t mind touching you.”

“It’s nuts.”

“Lie down,” Tom said, pushing Bill softly until the younger twin hit the bed and fell backwards onto the mattress. “ _I’m_ gonna show _you_.”

Tom took a hold of Bill’s boxers, pulling them down slowly. Bill was fully hard already, hissing as Tom removed the clothing completely. Tom left his own boxers on, making Bill pout slightly.

"What about yours?" Bill prompted, pointing at Tom's tented underwear.

Tom waved a hand and walked over to where his precious Gibson was leaning against the wall. Bill gasped as Tom brought the guitar over to the bed, laying it flat on the bed beside Bill.

"Tom."

"I'll show you," Tom pressed, ignoring Bill's 'no-means-no' voice. Tom lifted the guitar, pushing the neck against Bill's thigh. Tom moved the Gibson across Bill's skin, the strings leaving small marks where they scraped. He moved it further up, lightly teasing Bill's nipples. Bill's breathing was irregular, his eyes closed and hands gripping the sheets.

Tom flipped the guitar over, the smooth side of the body lying on Bill's tummy and covering his groin, the neck lying beside Bill's face. Tom leaned down over Bill, licking a stripe up the Gibson. Bill watched with curious eyes, his hips pushing up against the smooth, cold surface of the guitar.

"Ugh, Tom," Bill gasped. "I'm fucking your guitar, okay."

"Touch her," Tom whispered, almost mesmerized. Bill gasped once more as Tom put pressure on the guitar, but did as Tom said. Bill let go of the crumpled sheets with one hand, his painted nails scraping across the strings. "Use both hands."

Bill took a hold of the guitar with both hands, holding the body of the instrument flush against his naked skin. Bill moaned softly, wrapping his legs around the guitar and dry humping the Gibson eagerly.

Tom palmed himself through his boxers with a groan. He had never even dreamed of seeing Bill do something like this, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the sight.

Bill stilled his movements, looking at Tom with heavy lids. Tom frowned, taking the guitar away and placing it on the bed.

“You don’t like her?”

“I hate her,” Bill said quickly, his hands falling down on the mattress. Tom laughed in response and placed the guitar against the wall, beside the bed.

“Can I play you instead then?”

Bill smiled, nodding softly. Tom lay down on the bed, pulling Bill against him so they were lying back against chest. “I’ll let you play me.”

Tom nodded into Bill’s nape, kissing the tattoo there. Bill purred softly as Tom slid his hand down Bill’s chest, over his belly button, and down to his hip. “I have to tune you first.”

Bill moaned loudly as Tom took a hold of him, pumping him. Tom pushed against Bill’s ass, rubbing his himself against Bill, only the fabric of his boxers separating them.

“That feels so good, Tom,” Bill sighed.

Tom licked Bill’s neck, leaving Bill’s leaking member to trace patterns all over his skin, from his hip to the end of his finger.

“You still like her better than me?” Bill said airily.

Tom shook his head. “There are some things you can do, that she can’t.” Tom smoothed his hand over Bill’s hip, down to his ass and continued down his crease. Bill moaned as Tom breached him with a finger. “Like this.”

“Only that?” Bill asked, pushing backwards.

Tom curled his finger, stretching his brother. “No.”

“Share.”

Tom felt Bill shudder as he pushed another finger inside, scissoring them. Bill was spreading his legs, trying to give Tom more room to play. Tom pulled his fingers out, tickling the soft skin there and circling the hole before pushing back in.

“You’re way more flexible,” Tom mused. He curled his finger again, and Bill buckled, panting.

“I make prettier sounds.” Bill breathed, curling his neck against Tom’s shoulder.

“Much prettier,” Tom agreed. “You’re prettier.”

Bill smiled, humming satisfyingly.

“But like this, you’re gorgeous,” Tom said. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Bill moaned. “Fuck me, please.”

Tom smiled against Bill’s skin, removing his fingers from inside of Bill. He stood up from the bed, fetching the bottle of lube from his pants.

“On your back,” Tom said, slipping out of his underwear. Bill turned around, looking at Tom with hungry eyes, biting his lip.

Tom crawled over the bed, smashing their lips together hungrily. Bill moaned softly, taking the bottle from Tom's hand and uncapping it. He squirted a good amount onto his hand, reaching in between them to lube up Tom's cock.

"I bet she can't do this," Bill smirked, glancing over at the guitar leaning against the wall.

Tom chuckled, taking a hold of Bill's hips and positioning himself properly. Bill was about to open his mouth to comment, but shut it as he felt Tom nudge his entrance. Tom felt his legs shake and arms quake as he slipped inside of Bill.

“She can’t make me come,” Tom said, steadily thrusting inside Bill, dragging his cock so close to that good spot. Tom closed his eyes as he fucked Bill, his arms almost giving out. “Can you?”

Bill squeezed tightly around Tom and Tom hissed loudly. “I always can,” Bill said, determined. “Fuck, harder, Tom.”

Tom pushed all the way in, his hips touching Bill’s ass. Tom shifted, pushing in harder and making Bill moan loudly. They moved in complete bliss.

"Play me," Bill moaned, clinging to Tom's shoulders and licking his lips. "Please."

Tom reached in between them and took a hold of Bill’s cock, pumping eagerly. Bill shuddered. They were both so close, eagerly chasing their release. Tom leaned down, meeting Bill half way, kissing Bill hotly.

Bill clenched around Tom, sucking at Tom’s tongue and Tom groaned loudly, thrusting in deeper. Tom shook, coming hard inside of Bill, moaning into Bill’s mouth. Bill hissed as he felt Tom slip out of him, begging silently to Tom.

“Play me, Tom, play me.”

Bill thrust into Tom’s closed hand, crying out as Tom’s hand tightened around him once more, coming in hot spurts between them. They were both panting hotly, sticky with sweat and come, as they collapsed beside each other on the bed.

They both closed their eyes, basking in the afterglow of their orgasms. Tom propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Bill.

“I just played you thoroughly,” Tom smirked. Bill didn’t know how true that statement was. Tom leaned over his twin, letting fingers dancing over Bill’s chest. “I tuned you; I played you; I fingered you like the instrument you are.”

“That’s sick.”

“You’re sick,” Tom smirked.

“You just fucked your brother, that’s sick.” Bill lifted an eyebrow, curling up against his brother.

“Touché,” Tom smiled. “But you took your brother up your ass.”

“You’re sick for sticking it up my ass.”

Tom chuckled. Bill dared to glance over at the Gibson, but Tom caught his line of sight. “You still jealous?” Tom smirked.

Bill shrugged, turning back to Tom with a content smile. “I guess I always will be, what with the way you treat her.”

“But after what you just did… I can’t have her getting jealous of me, _especially_ after what she just witnessed.”

“ _That’s_ sick.”

“She’s sick,”

“She’s alright,” Tom murmured.

“I guess she is,” Bill mumbled into Tom’s neck. Tom smiled, wrapping his arms around Bill protectively. “But I’m still the best.”

Tom chuckled at that.


End file.
